


Miscreants and Morals

by Albion19



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Bad Boy/Good Girl, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-22
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-13 10:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Albion19/pseuds/Albion19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a school trip to the countryside tensions run high between a group of lost students and their stressed teacher…British High School AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Pan get that tie off your head!”

“Make me.”

“What did you say?”

The coach falls into a hush of fear and titillated excitement. Pan and Mr Jones are always guaranteed to entertain and today is no exception. The teacher’s blue eyes flash from the front of the coach, directing a look of such ire that any student under it would shrivel up and die on the spot. Any student but Pan. He seems to thrive on it. In fact there does not go a day where he forgoes an opportunity to egg on some unfortunate for his own twisted amusement. The fact that he does not draw a line at adults is just another tick confirming that the boy is  _just not right_.

Wendy Darling likes Mr Jones, he shares her extreme distaste for the delinquent and is not afraid to show it. He is also gorgeous but that is beside the point. For as long as she can remember Peter Pan has been a constant, grinning whirlwind of discord and mayhem, as if someone had engineered the naughtiest qualities found in the young male species and condensed them into one tall, impish boy.

Said boy is now watching the teacher approach with a slight smirk on his mouth, sitting comfortably at the back of the coach with the rest of his friends. Well  _friends_  is being generous,  _gang_  is more applicable. Last week John had told her that the boys had set fire to a tree and danced around it. She could believe it, they are just as antisocial as he is, though Peter is the king. He collects ASBOS like stamps.

“Here we go,” Wendy whispers to Lily who rolls her eyes but turns in her seat as Mr Jones passes them. He comes to a stand in the gangway and stares Pan down. The man, she knows, is an ex-soldier and could probably kill someone with a blunt pencil. Not someone to rile up. The tie still sits upon Pan’s head, like a crown, and the ends swing against his cheek as he tilts his face up.

“Can I help you sir?”

“Do you want me to pull the coach over and kick you out?” Mr Jones asks in a low voice and Pan’s eyebrows rise.

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. Safeguarding responsibilities and all that…”

Jones narrows his eyes and leans down. “Oh you think I’d let you go home alone? No I’d escort you personally back to whatever madhouse you live in.”

At this something flickers in the boy’s eyes and Wendy holds her breath. His home life is a thing of myth and legend, Wendy has never heard talk of any family but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any. However she suspects he comes from a….troubled arrangement. The lightening quick gleam of hurt is quickly replaced with cold calculation.

“Yes taking me home alone will look good for you sir. Let’s do that,” Pan smiles sweetly and Mr Jones swallows, blinking in surprise and conflict, before he suddenly pulls the tie down Pan’s face where it sits limply around his neck.

“Talk back to me again and I’ll ban you from the field for the next month,” Jones says and straightens, the ball very much in his court again as Pan’s face blanches. He plays on the school’s rugby team, the only team of which he is part. Wendy muses that it is probably a way for him to vent, which is good for the local populous. He is talented, she has seen him as she supports her brother, a natural leader but he does like to hog the limelight.

“But sir!”

“Don’t sir me. You’re in for a week of detention so don’t press your luck,” he warns and moves away, his face thunderous. Pan glares at his retreating back and kicks the seat in front of him, making poor Bae jerk forward with a look of weary resignation.

“One day I’m gonna take his prosthetic hand and hang it from the posts,” he mutters darkly and the boys around him chortle. Wendy turns in her seat and glares at him.

“Don’t be so vile,” she snaps, her stomach whizzing and fizzing like champagne. She usually ignores him, not wanting the strain of his attention on her, but his dark promise angers her. He can go too far sometimes and is only surrounded by enablers.

“She speaks!” he gasps and hold a hand to his chest. “I thought you only chirped and twittered bird.”

Bird. Oh how she half detested, half adored the name. He has been calling her that for as long as she has known him and has no idea why. Her mouth purses as he whistles at her, a trilling noise that is actually quite impressive but she hardens her resolve. He has been insufferable for the last two hours and getting on her last nerve.

“You shouldn’t say things like that, it’s really offensive.”

“To who? You? Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop Wendy-bird, it’s rude.”

“Maybe you should watch your mouth next time.”

The boys around him  _oh_  softly and Lily nudges her side in support. Her blood is up and she feels like she can volley back whatever he gives her. His eyes crackle like green fire, surprised and deeply amused, as he leans forward. He really is good looking but he knows it, the worst sort of boy.

“Will you make me? I’d like to see you try.”

“You’re ridiculous. He’s a teacher, you should show him respect,” she might as well ask him to fly her to the moon. Pan scoffs and sits back.

“I will when it’s returned. He’s a bitter, dried up arsehole and I will take his hand before I leave and throw it in the lake.”

“How have you not been expelled yet?” another mystery.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Actually no I don’t,” she says haughtily and turns in her seat. She glances at Lily who gives her the thumbs up before passing the other earbud that faintly pumps out music. As she slots it into place she feels his cool breath on her ear and smells the strong spearmint of his gum. Her stomach flutters. To kiss him would be like kissing a glacier, a blasting shock and once started you’re stuck.

“Maybe I’ll slip it into your bag when you least expect it. A gift, what do you think?”

Wendy glares ahead, inhaling his scent and feels her stomach twist in irritation and just a hint of arousal. He  _would_  do such a thing and leave her to return the hand to Mr Jones. Well he will find her no easy meat.

“You know what I think? I think there’s a  _special school_  missing a student and has done so for years. Get out of my face.”

The entire bus snorts, even his loyal gang, but for Felix. Wendy spots Miss Swan press her lips together before smoothing her face into an impassive mask. Lily giggles next to her, wiggling in her seat in rapture as Wendy tries not to grin.

Pan sits back and stares intensely at the back of her seat for the remainder of the journey. It is the most well behaved he has ever been…well, until they reach their destination and Wendy wishes she had kept her mouth shut.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun shines high from its zenith in a peerless blue sky and Wendy sighs. Since vacating the stuffy coach and the never-ending burn of Pan’s gaze on her – she had turned to him pointedly as they got up from their seats, eyes fixed to his in a daring staring contest but she had turned away when he smirked strangely. He is a freak and she does not want to actually goad him on purpose.

“It’s too hot,” Lily moans and plucks at her shirt. They sprawl under the shadow of a huge oak tree, watching the boys in their form year playing football as they finish their sandwiches. Every year the school treats them to a day out, usually to an overcrowded beach, but this year it is the rural delights of the countryside. It is not often that they get out of the city so Wendy soaks in the sights and sounds around her; the trees, green grass and wild flowers. It is peaceful and the tension of the last few hours pours out of her. It is beautiful but her eyes continually rest on one sight that is anything but peaceful.

She watches as Pan, with his shirt half unbuttoned like the rest of the boys, zeroes in on a particularly weak looking boy called Henry and then whispers something into Felix’s ear. Wendy sees both of them smirk and then break apart as Peter kicks the ball hard towards said boy and she watches in horror as the missile slams against his head and Henry falls to the ground. A muffled shriek rents the air and Wendy sighs and gets to her feet as students crowd around the injured party.

“He’s such a monster,” she says and watches as Peter and his boys detangle from the crowd of concerned and slink away into the trees, the teachers too preoccupied to notice. Hands on her hips she shakes her head as Mr Jones straightens and looks around the field quickly, his eyes narrowing. Wendy thinks he must have a second sense for detecting misbehaviour. Or he just knows that Pan is the root of all evils.

“Come on, let’s go for a walk,” Lily says and Wendy agrees. They shoulder their backpacks and walk towards the tree line but turn when Mr Jones calls out to them.

“Don’t stray off the path girls,” he says with a smile and Wendy returns it. See? He is not all gruff and when he smiles angels sing. Probably.

“We won’t. I have a map,” she answers and feels a little flush when he looks proud at her initiative before turning back to Henry, who is sitting up. Lily chuckles besides her, bumping her shoulder.

“You fancy the pants off him.”

“Shut up, I don’t.”

“Sure…I do, he’s fit as fuck,” Lily sighs the sigh of every school girl presented with the delightful dilemma of having a supermodel for a history teacher. As they reach the cool, shady trees Wendy snorts.

“I thought you want him and Miss Dawn to get married and have babies?” Miss Dawn is the beautiful and achingly sweet music teacher and it is a widely circulated rumour that she and Mr Jones are having a torrid affair and if they’re not they should be. Lily sighs again, her long dark hair rippling down her back as she tilts her head from side to side.

“I do but I also want him to stick his hand up my shirt first.”

“Lily!” Wendy yells, scandalised, and gives a ribaldry laugh. Giggling and unable to stop they come to a dip in the path and see before them a vast opening in the land, like an earthy green cleft. The ground dips down gently before veering violently downwards, levels out again some forty feet below before rising up in a craggy wall across from them. Trees and ferns grow everywhere and through the hazy rays of sunshine breaking through the treetops it looks absolutely magical. Wendy, a storyteller and professional day dreamer, looks open the glade with awe and clutches Lily.

“It’s so beautiful,” she breathes and steps off the path and moves to the wire fence that cordons off the drop. Lily trails behind, looking unsure.

“He said not to step off the path.”

“Come on, just to the bottom and then up again,” Wendy cajoles and dances on her feet, impatient to explore. It is a misconception that Lily is the more daring of the two best friends but people mistake her bold and unfiltered approach for what she truly feels. She is deeply insecure while Wendy is quietly sure of herself. She wants adventure and the stories that she so adores to be real, so when presented with the opportunity to experience it she does not bulk, even if it gets her in trouble. However along with this carefree spirit she is also selfless and deeply compassionate.

“If you don’t want to come then wait here for me. I’ll call you if I meet a bear or something.”

“Don’t even joke,” Lily says with a smile but she looks uneasy.

“I’ll send you a picture if I see one,” Wendy smirks and Lily gives her a volley up to help her over the fence. Wendy stares down, calculating her safest route as Lily leans over with a stricken face.

“I know you have all those badges and go camping a lot but are you sure?”

Wendy is a Girl Guide and has been since the age of five. She can handle a slightly steep hillside. She turns to Lily and gives her a reassuring hug before stepping down. She moves carefully and slowly, her school skirt restricting her movement a little but she manages to stay on her feet. She turns to Lily who waves and she takes a picture of her friend on her mobile before Lily is lost in the trees above. Now alone she makes her way down, taking pictures and the opportunity to just stand and stare.

Almost at the bottom, the ground starting to level out, she pauses as she hears a noise and looks up. The sky above if a hazy blue ribbon through the trees and the glade around her is bathed in dappled gold and green light. Bird song echoes around but it is not that sweet sound that makes her stop.

She can hear boys laughing and before she can turn back a group of them appear below. Peter and his gang walk leisurely along, talking and laughing, and from their hands bottles of something she guesses is alcohol swings. Wendy wants to hide behind a tree but it is too late as Pan’s eyes snap to her as if magnetised.

“Wendy-bird?”

“Oh god,” she mutters and looks behind her. It surprises her how far she has actually come, the way back up seems like attempting Everest. She balls her fists and steels herself before turning around. Pan stands in the same spot, his gang at his back who watch her with mild indifference. Pan’s lips curl into a smirk and Wendy wonders how much he has had to drink. She is flabbergasted when he offers the bottle in his hand to her and all she can do is shake her head quickly.

“Suit yourself. How did you get here?” he asks and steps towards her, eyes moving upwards and his smirk spreads. “Did you fly down?”

“I climbed,” she answers primly and he cocks a brow as his eyes trail down her body to her bare legs. Not a scratch on them. Wendy feels herself blush at his lingering stare and wants to rub her legs together but stops. Rather than being alone with him and his boys Wendy decides to walk in the direction they had come. They have obviously found another way down and as the prospect of climbing back up with them watching her every move is less than appealing she brushes past Pan and begins to walk away.

He flicks his fingers into the tendrils of her hair, which is gathered up into a messy bun. He does not pull, that would almost be better than the teasing play of his fingers. Wendy glares at him over her shoulder, her body suddenly flushing with heat.

“I wouldn’t go back that way,” he says lightly, his full lips still fixed in that curling smirk but his tone is soft. Wendy is on alert immediately, sensing danger.

“Why?”

“Because Hook’s coming after us,” he say lightly and his smirk grows into a grin at the flash of indignation in her eyes at hearing the rude ephitate. Back in year eight Mr Jones had come in without his usual prosthetic but a rather inconspicuous metal talon. Wendy can still distinctly remember the way Pan had jerked upright at the sight and the spark that had ignited in his eyes. There is very little difference between the look and the one starving predators give to prey. From that point on the nickname had been born.

“You’re disgusting,” she spits out, “and a cowardly idiot,” she adds for good measure and his eyes narrow. Any other bully and it would be a look of warning, of impending danger but he seems turned on by her fire.

“You’re very lippy today bird, I like it,” he says as his boys begin to climb trees and sit on the thick branches. “Why am I an idiot?”

“Because that way leads to a dead end, Mr Jones would have caught you anyway,” she explains smugly, pointing up along the path. His eyebrow cocks and he shrugs, eyeing her cunningly.

“Well that makes two if us doesn’t  it? You’ll get caught too,” his lips stretch into a grin and his eyes twinkle. “You broke a rule, I’m shocked!”

Wendy’s mouth purses as she realises he likes that she has done so, as if he is proud of her. However the knowledge that she may actually be caught doing something wrong sends a spike of unease through her but she hides it with a lifted chin and resolute expression.

“At least I’m not drinking like a bunch of lushes!” she retorts and he snorts in amusement.

“You should come out one night with us bird, let your hair down,” he says and flicks her loose curls with his fingers again and Wendy slaps his hand away in annoyance.

“PAN!” Mr Jones’ voice blasts through the warm, quiet air like a gunshot and Wendy jumps. The teacher is staring at Pan like he wants to hang, draw and quarter him and his enraged eyes take in the lounging boys and the drinks in their hands, which they promptly discard. He must have seen Peter fondling her hair, she can only guess that is why he looks so angry. Pan looks down at his watch and then up again with an unimpressed expression.

“Twenty minutes, not exactly up to your usual standards,” he says in disappointment and then takes a brazen swig from the bottle. Wendy is half impressed at his absolute gall but the look on Jones’ face keeps her own impassive. The teacher is clenching his one good hand and his face is slowly going red. Wendy can only imagine what torture it must be to have Pan ragging on you none stop for years and she commends his resilience but there is only so much a person can take before snapping. As Pan grew older and smarter his jibes became more personal, more acutely aware of how to inflict pain. He is scarcely intelligent and coupled with his complete fearlessness Wendy often wonders if he is a psychopath. It would explain so much.

Jones comes forward and the boys in the trees jump down. They had thrown their booze away as soon as he appeared but not Pan. He watches him come towards him with a giddy expression, bottle top near his lips. His eyes dance.

“Drop it,” Jones demands, coming to a stop a few feet away. He speaks calmly, trying to regain some control. He looks at her and his expression is serious. “You all right?”

“I’m fine,” she says and then swallows when he looks at her in confusion before gazing back at Pan. Wendy battles down a flare of hurt, knowing that on some level she has disappointed him.

“Pan,” he says and holds out his hand and Pan’s lips curl up at the corners and very slowly he takes another drink. Wendy rolls her eyes and sighs.

“What’s the matter with you?” the words burst out of her and Pan laughs, saying nothing in response.

“I’m not going to tell you again,” Jones says through his teeth, his cheeks flushing. Wendy has never seen him so angry and for the first time she feels prickles of fright. Pan on the other hand is practically quivering with giddy maliciousness.

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you sir? You must be thirsty coming all the way out here for us,” he says with mock sweetness and shakes the plastic bottle filled with vodka. Wendy holds her breath. It is a widespread rumour that the history teacher is a recovering alcoholic, though Wendy cannot recall ever seeing him less than sober, but as the teacher stands stiffly and stares at the offered bottle Wendy has a terrible sinking feeling and in that moment she utterly detests Peter. So when Jones finally leans forward to snatch the bottle she half dreads, half wishes that he’ll hit Pan with it or at the very least pour it over his head. Instead Jones lobs the bottle as far as he can into the woods and Wendy hears a plonking noise as it hits the lake beyond the trees.

“I’ll take that as a no then,” Pan says as Mr Jones turns and walks away as the light around them dims suddenly, eyeing Wendy for a moment with a long suffering expression.

“Twat,” he mutters under his breath as he brushes past her. She smirks, following and after some minutes she can hear Pan and his gang trailing behind as the first drops of rain fall.


	3. Chapter 3

“Watch your step,” Mr Jones warns from the head of the line. Rain falls in driving sheets, making what should be a leisurely stroll a muddy and slip hazardous assault course. As thunder rumbles through the trees Wendy hangs back, avoiding eye contact with Pan as he gives her a smirking glance as he and the rest of his gang walk past. She is wet, her trainers are soaked through and her hair is a mess but to top it off at that precise moment nature calls. She couldn’t wait twenty minutes and so dances on the spot until the boys are safely out of view before venturing off the path to find a bush to hide behind. There is no chance she’ll get lost, they had left a clear path in the mud for her to follow. She just hopes Mr Jones doesn’t get worried or annoyed at her absence. Relieved she makes a few squelching steps through the mud towards the path when a flash of lightning makes her gasp and then jump as thunder booms loudly. She steps back and her left foot slides a few inches down a muddy hillside.

“Careful.”

Wendy snaps her head up to see Pan leaning against a tree, his arms crossed over his chest. Embarrassment, anger and a strange fizzling excitement flash through her but humiliation overwhelms everything. Her foot is stuck in the mud. Perfect.

“What do you want? Were you watching me?”

“Watching you do what?” he asks innocently but his eyes sparkle. Flushing with another wave of embarrassment Wendy grits her teeth and gives him a challenging glare. Why she is doing such a thing she can’t say but it feels good to do it. She will not be intimidated by him. He cocks an eyebrow and leans off the tree. Her stomach tightens.

“Mr Jones will be angry that you’re missing again. You better go,” she advises but he shrugs. Her heart leaps suddenly in fright as her foot slides down another inch and she wavers, unbalanced. Wet, strong fingers wrap around her wrist and she looks up into Pan’s eyes. She has always been half in love with his light green gaze, half hated it but now all she feels is surprise. He looks, for just the length of a breath, concerned. But then his sly smile turns that gaze into something machiavellian.

“Shall I go now? I don’t want to get in trouble,” he says in mock worry and the hand around her wrist grows slightly loose. Wendy’s heart drums in her chest as she looks between his teasing eyes and his slick fingers.

“Don’t you dare,” she strangles out, not wanting to beg but unable to stop giving him a pleading look. All the wayward thoughts and sometimes deep contemplations about Pan’s mental state suddenly blast through her head and she prays now that none of it is founded. He wouldn’t really let her go, would he? Either way he was clearly enjoying her panic.

“What?” his hand disappears for just a second and then grabs hold again but not before she slips, this time her other foot getting sucked into the mud. Thunder booms overhead and rain pours even harder, plastering his usually messy hair to his head. He seems invigorated by it.

“You’re an arsehole,” Wendy pants, glaring at him and she’s both angry and frightened. The fear seems to soften him as he tilts his head to the side and exhales.

“I’m only joking, don’t take things so seriously,” he reprimands and then pulls her forward. As he steps back the water logged earth under his feet gives way and without warning he falls, bringing Wendy down with him. Too shocked to scream Wendy tumbles down the hillside, not realising that a steep ravine was just inches below her. She feels a sudden agonising pain flashing through her foot and she screams as the world spins around her until she suddenly comes to splashing halt.

Stunned, wet and smeared with mud Wendy lifts her head up and wonders dazedly if it is night before she turns over. She is at the bottom of a ravine, the trees above arching over to block out the light. Water pours down the sides, turning the narrow path she is sitting in quickly into a stream. She sits up and bites back a groan. Her ankle throbs with pain and she touches it gingerly, wondering if it’s broken when she remembers Peter.

“Pan?” she turns and stops breathing. He is lying behind her, face down in the rising water. With a surge of adrenaline she moves to him on her scraped knees and pushes him over. At her touch he groans and his eyes fly open.

“Shit,” he hisses through his teeth, blinking water out of his eyes as Wendy’s hands hover nervously over him. He gives her a quick searching look that takes in her muddy attire and wet hair before he sits up. He grimaces, balling his hands up as he looks upwards and sighs. “Great.”

“Are you all right? Did you hit your head?” she lifts her hand to his head, seeing a trickle of blood running down his neck but he wipes it away and she drops her hand awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” he grits and then gets to his feet. Just as filthy, wet and shaken as she is he begins to laugh, hand in his hair, and Wendy reconsiders if he did hit his head and hit it hard. She struggles to her feet and a yelp of pain bursts out of her mouth as she puts weight on her foot. The laughter dies as he regards her.

“I think I sprained it,” she says, trying to laugh it off as he had done but all humour seems to have been bled from him. He moves a few paces away from her and then waits for her to come to him. Gritting her teeth she tries, gingerly stepping through the loose rocks but every time her toes make contact with the floor a spike of pain shoots through her foot. She is shaking and panting by the time she reaches him.

“You know if we were in the wild I’d leave you behind,” he says grimly and without further ado places his arm around her waist and waits for her to lean on him. Wendy stops breathing, not daring to look into his face. Heart ready to burst free she quickly places her arm around his neck before she can give it too much thought and tries to breathe.

“If we  _really were_  in the wild you’d eat me. I guess you’re not so heartless after all,” Wendy states matter of fact, trying to keep the suddenly intimate situation as platonic as possible but as he helps her to walk Wendy is faced with a deep and irrevocable truth.

_Oh god I fancy him._

_Damn it._

* * *

 

As the rain persists and no path of any kind makes itself known Wendy and Peter stagger slowly along the ravine, trying to keep out of the ankle high water that in some places rushes like a torrent over pebbles and jagged rocks. The day had been baking hot but down here it is cold and the water freezing.

_I’ve never been so wet. My trainers are soaked, my socks, my dress, my hair and my bloody underwear. At least he’s just as wet and muddy as I am, that’s a comfort._

However he seems to pull off the wild, feral look while Wendy suspects she looks like a mad woman who needs a bath. They have been walking for half an hour and Wendy muses that if they follow the widening ravine they should come to a path at some point. Peter quietly assents but he keeps his eyes trained above as Wendy shouts for help. Both of their mobiles were damaged in the fall, the screen of hers cracked. They were all alone.

“I’m sure Mr Jones will be looking for us,” Wendy says aloud, knowing that Peter will roll his eyes but needing to say it anyway. It makes her feel better.

“If he hasn’t been sacked yet,” he quips hopefully, helping her down an incline. Wendy stares at the side of his face hotly.

“Why are you so horrible to him?”

“Why are you so in love with him?” he snaps back, grinning horribly as her whole body flushes with heat.

“Shut up.”

“So you do?”

“What?”

“Fancy Hook?”

“No! Will you shut up!? And don’t call him that!” she fumes and struggles out of his arms. For a second she thinks he will not let her go but with a smirk he drops his arms to his sides and Wendy wavers on one leg, her injured foot lifted off the ground. As much as he annoys her and generally makes her life a pain she shudders to think what she would do if she was down here alone and with no help.

“Are you going to hop all the way back?”

“You know I can still kick you with one foot?”

He flashes her a grin, apparently delighted at her threat of violence and Wendy has to stop herself smiling in return. He takes a water bottle out of his backpack and takes a swig from it before throwing it to her. Wendy catches it, wipes the top which makes him grin again, and drinks. Both of them have sandwiches in their bags but Wendy does not want to consider that they may stay out there long enough to get hungry. She is already getting tired of hobbling.

“Come on bird, better get going,” he says, placing the bottle back and slinging the pack over his shoulders. As his arm circles her again, producing a pleasurable tingle in her,  Wendy gazes curiously at the side of his face.

“Why do you call me that?”

“What?” he asks vaguely, looking up again and Wendy smiles thinly.

“You know. Why am I a bird?”

“You just are, accept it.”

“How can I  _accept_  it if I don’t know what it is?”

“One of life’s mysteries. You can’t know  _everything_ ,” he answers playfully and this time she cannot stop herself smiling at him. He gazes at her and for a moment he looks surprised. The corner of his lips curl up in the first genuine smile she has ever seen but then he crows in accomplishment and points. “Gotcha.”

He points upwards and Wendy sees a large outcropping of rock that rises high above the ravine. If they climb to the top they should be able to see where they are. Wendy turns to him with an inquisitive look. Peter shrugs.

“What? You’re not the only one who can read a map. Dib dib dob dob,” he gives her a mocking three finger salute and Wendy rolls her eyes as they make their way slowly towards the rock.


	4. Chapter 4

They get halfway up the cliff before they admit defeat. The truth is with her injured foot Wendy cannot make the climb, even with Peter helping her, but after almost falling in another mud slide he stops and leans her against a tree.

“Go on without me,” she pants but he just gives her a glance she cannot read and looks up. Rain patters against his face, his skin milky pale and he bares his teeth. He had taken most of her weight without complaint but now she sees the toll it has taken on him. However she is tiny compared to him and it should not tax him so much. As he staggers from her, exploring the area, Wendy notices the way he keeps his hand pressed against his side, as if he has a stitch but she suspects it must be more than that. He  _had_  been hurt in the fall.

“There’s a cave. We should wait until the rain stops and then climb the rest,” he comes back to her, throwing out his arm for balance as his feet slide. He grimaces with pain and Wendy shakes her head as he reaches for her arm.

“You’re hurt, don’t deny it.”

“So what?” he shrugs, truly perplexed at her worry and then tugs on her arm and she reluctantly places it over his shoulders again. She tries not to lean on him as they make their way to an ivy covered opening in the cliff face but he presses her tighter against his injured side until they reach the shelter of the cave. Inside it is dim and small, he has to bend his head, but it is dry and there’s no mud. With a sigh she sits ungracefully down on the cold stone and he slides down opposite her with a hiss of pain.

“Until the rain stops…” she says and watches the downpour through the curtain of ivy. Inside the hollow it echoes around them, a soothing sound but she feels anything but. Peter keeps his eyes on her and when she looks at him he continues to stare until she shifts, uncomfortable. Finally she snaps. “What?”

“What?” he asks innocently, well as innocently as he can. He smirks at her and she grows more flustered, not knowing where to look but unable to tear her gaze away. He is covered in mud, as she is, soaking wet and hiding his pain but he still manages to annoy her. Likely his payback for half carrying her around in a storm. Well she will confront his irritating approach with maturity.

“Did you break anything?” she suspects he might have caught his ribs on a rock in the fall down the ravine. Peter looks down at his side and shrugs again.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t matter,” he says dismissively and Wendy tilts her head. It’s not that he’s trying to save face for her benefit but rather that he truly doesn’t care about his own welfare. He is a strange boy.

“Well thank you, for helping me,” she expresses it sincerely and this makes him look away from her.  An awkward silence fills the cave and Wendy realises with a horror that she will have to actually talk to him. She tries to remember if they have ever had a conversations that consisted of anything but retorts and jibes and she comes up short. God, what can she say to him of all people? Really she knows nothing about him. Not knowing what else to do she drags her fingers through her hair and leaves and dried mud comes away in her fingers. She rubs her fingertips over her face and more muddy flakes fall and she grimaces, not as embarrassed as she could be because Peter looks just the same. However he sits with his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle by her hips, completely unconcerned with his appearance.

“Got any food?” he asks suddenly and Wendy lowers her hands. She has sandwiches and a few snacks but that's it. She nods and sits up, shrugging her backpack off and jostles her ankle as she moves. A yelp of pain bursts from her lips and she fists the bag until her knuckles go white. She squeezes her eyes closed until the sharp pain fades away until a dull throb remains, a throb that makes her feel sick. When she opens her eyes Peter is on his knees by her feet and she inhales a shallow breath as he starts to tug on his tie and pull it over his head.

 _Is he getting undressed?_  The thought flashes through her mind and is immediately accompanied by a confusing mix of fear and excitement. Peter offers the tie to her but she doesn’t take it, not comprehending until he sighs and rolls his eyes.

“I’m not asking you to wear it bird. It’s for your ankle.”

“Oh…” she voices, feeling embarrassed and takes the offered tie from him. She tries to take off her chuck but her fingers shake over a knot in the laces. His fingers bump against hers, pushing her hands away and he proceeds to unlace her shoe and then very gently slip it off her foot, along with her wet sock. With another breathy sigh he takes the tie back from her and Wendy feels oddly hypnotised, caught between fear and shock, as he wraps the fabric very gently around her foot. Fingers digging into the rocks below her she watches as his deft fingers work, breath caught in her throat as her body floods with a heady mixture of emotions she does not want to accept. When he finally sits back, gliding a palm down her shin in an involuntarily movement, he reaches forward for her backpack, as he does he sees the look on Wendy’s face and freezes. She looks like she just witnessed a fish riding a bicycle.

“What?

“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen you show kindness. Correction I can’t count on any hand because I’ve never seen it, until now,” she gazes at him wonderingly as he averts his gaze again, clearly uncomfortable but his mouth curls up at the corner. Seeing that soft smirk ignites a sudden doubt in her and it is one that grows more powerful by the second.

_The reason I haven’t seen him be kind before is because he’s incapable of it. He is selfish and cruel and only does things if it benefits him in some way, be it his sick sense of humour or something else. Oh god, what if this is all an act? What if he’s after something? Is he angry at me for what I said on the coach? Is this pay back?_

As these horrible thoughts whirl around her mind Peter catches the suspicious expression on her face and his bemused smile falls. He narrows his eyes at her, hackles rising.

“Something on your mind?”

“Why have you taken me here?” she asks lightly but her voice shakes a little.

“I told you: the top of this cliff is near to the surface. From there I should be able to jump across and get help. Why? Don’t you believe me?” he asks with a thin lipped smile and Wendy licks her lips nervously before answering.

“I’ve just never seen this from you. I – I thought you might be tricking me,” she admits and his eyebrow cocks.

“Tricking you? How?”

“Never mind,” she says and unzips her backpack to avoid looking at him but he pulls the bag out of her hands and smiles at her.

“Go on, tell me. What awful thing did you think about me?” he asks, apparently thrilled at the prospect. Wendy glares at him, jaw clenching and crosses her arms over her chest. She is cold, damp and in pain and now she has to admit she thought he had brought her to this secluded place to make out with her? No way.

“That you’d leave me,” she finally says and he smiles widely.

“I could you know. I could wait until you sleep and leave you so you’d wake up alone.”

An arrow of fear strikes through her and she swallows. “I won’t fall asleep.”

“But I could still leave, you can’t follow me…” he muses thoughtfully and she feels a sharp jab of anger. Why is he scaring her? What does it prove?

“Leave then! I don’t care,” she retorts and he laughs until the sound echoes around them.

“Oh you really need to lighten up bird. I’m only messing around,” he says with a shining eyed smile and leans close until their faces are inches apart. “I really brought you up here to kiss you.”

“Idiot!” she yells and pushes him away where he falls back against the wall with another laugh. “I wouldn’t kiss you if you paid me.”

“No money. It’ll happen, whether in five minutes or five years,” he declares arrogantly and she scoffs, even as her stomach knots in anticipation.

“If you try in five minutes I’ll smack you in the face but I won’t have to worry about the future,” she says, lifting her chin with a cruel smile of her own and he tilts his head.

“Oh and why is that?”

“Because in five years’ time you’ll likely be in prison,” she retorts harshly and for a split second his face falls. Wendy feels a flush of shame but then he smirks at her.

“Ha. Ha.”

He ignores her and then proceeds to refile through her bag for food. He pulls out a pack of crisps, a drink and throws them onto her lap and Wendy takes the pack hesitantly. She is not a cruel person and she thought she was giving back what he could take but maybe she is wrong. As he opens up a bag of maltesers and sips on a Ribena she catches his eye and smiles weakly.

“Sorry. You didn’t have to half carry me up a cliff in the pouring rain but you did. Thank you Peter, I’m sorry if I offended you.” She thinks that he will shrug her formal apology off or laugh but he does neither. He gazes at her for a long time, as if weighing what to say before he looks down into the bag of sweets.

“I’ve spent my whole life around people who hate me so don’t worry bird, I can take it,” he flicks his eyes up to her with a genuine smile and Wendy’s heart swells with feeling.

“I – I don’t really know you or about your life but I’m sorry if that’s what you think.”

His head snaps up and he gazes at her fiercely. “It’s not what I think it’s the truth. I don’t care anymore, fuck them. They haven’t got a clue and they have no idea what I’m capable of.”

At any other time it would sound like a threat but at that moment it is so far from that. The swelling feeling of pity increases until it pains her. She has never, not once, put herself in Peter’s place and imagined what it must be like to be him. She thought nothing got to him but how can that be true? His whole personality is a persona, a mask and now she is seeing it slip.

“You live in foster care?”

“Yeah. I was raised by nuns.”

“Shut up,” she laughs in shock and he smiles.

“It’s true. I drove them mad, I’d steal wafers and feed them to the pigeons,” he recollects fondly and Wendy shakes her head in amusement. He smiles softly, blinking a little as if unaccustomed to having a conversation with someone genuinely friendly. He throws her a maltesers which she catches and then crunches between her teeth.

“Feeding the bird?” she teases, faintly aware that she is flirting but dismisses the squirming feeling she gets in the pit of her stomach. He throws her another in answer before rising and moving to the mouth of the cave.  There is no sign of the rain abating and Wendy considers a plan as he sits back down but this time beside her. His arm bumps against her bare skin and she feels a frizzle of electric shoot through her and she tries not to move in response.

“I should start a fire,” he muses aloud suddenly and Wendy’s eyebrows climb.

“As a signal?”

“No I mean in here, I want to spend the night,” he replies sarcastically and she rolls her eyes before gazing at him thoughtfully. He sounds almost wistful.

“Well you can stay here but I’m not.”

“Aw,” he pouts. “I’d get lonely. There’s enough room for two,” the top of his cold nose touches her ear and she muffles a gasp before leaning back to look at him furtively. He smirks, his eyes agleam.

“Then you better find someone else,” she replies politely, trying to keep her heart rate down. He usually sends her blood rushing but for very different reasons. She has never had to face this side of Peter before and she suspects he does not get to show it often, not surrounded by his followers.

“I haven’t got anyone else,” he says softly and his eyes stare deeply into hers before flicking down to her lips, which she licks. Whether he has girlfriends Wendy has never been able to discern, at school he seems unattached but outside? She sometimes hears rumours about unknown girls who he has been found kissing or sometimes even more but she has never been able to separate the truth from rumours. He is no wilting wallflower and she can quite easily imagine him having no problem being intimate. Like at this very moment for instance.

“I see,” she manages to breathe and his eyes flick back up to look at her. He smiles and then brushes his thumb against her cheek with a sudden bemused grin.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not,” she denies and stops breathing as he runs the back of his fingers down her cheek and then lightly grazes her bare arm.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m bloody freezing,” she confesses and he nods in agreement. He reaches over for his bag and pulls out the school blazer he has stuffed into it while playing football. Back by her side he pauses, the coat in his lap, and stares at her shrewdly. He seems reluctant to give it to her and he sighs.

“If you tell anyone about this I’ll deny it, understand?” he narrows his eyes at her dangerously and Wendy smirks but has a sinking feeling. When they leave the cave it will all go back to the way it used to be.

“I understand, you have your horrible reputation to uphold. You don’t want people to know that you’re not a complete twat.”

“Thanks,” he replies dryly and hands her his coat. Wendy slips it on, being careful not to move her foot and sighs as she sits back. Warmer and enveloped by his scent she looks at him again, scrutinising until he turns and cocks an eyebrow.

“So when we leave you’ll just continue to bully me?”

“I don’t bully you.”

“You tease me all the time and it gets on my nerves. I don’t understand why you have to be that way? I mean for the longest time I thought you hated me.”

He freezes, mouth parting and then he shakes his head slowly. “I don’t. I – I don’t know,” he shrugs, deeply uncomfortable but Wendy doesn’t want to drop it.

“It’s not just me either. The way you and your friends treat people is awful. Like poor Bae.”

The small, brown eyed boy has been a target for Pan and his gang for as long as she can remember and it drives her mad. Why they would pick on such a sweet, gentle boy is beyond her but really it’s simple. They pick on him because he won’t fight back, at least that’s what Peter believes but Wendy can see a different outcome in the future. They do not know Bae but she does.

Peter shrugs again, hardly looking at her. “It’s just a laugh.”

“One day you won’t find it funny when he snaps,” Wendy warns darkly and he scoffs.

“I’d pay to see that.”

“People reach breaking points in different ways, not all of them hit back. Do you understand? You can’t carry on being like this, especially in sixth form.”

He turns a deeply sour expression on her and she feels cold under it. “This is boring, drop it.”

Wendt bites her tongue, knowing that she has crossed a line. Anyone telling Peter Pan to do anything is always met with resistance or outright rebellion and it seems she is no different. He is not someone to mother. Feeling annoyed and jittery she looks at the rain falling outside, wishing that her feelings for Peter did not bounce between a giddy infatuation to a bitter distaste. Not wanting to dwell on it she looks back and watches him slide his hand up under his shirt to his injured side.

“Do you want me to look?” she blurts out, unable to stop and he hesitates before nodding. Turning to the side she hovers her hands over his back before gripping the back of his shirt and gently pulls it up. She gasps at the bloody and raw sight of his back and side which must be very painful. Because of the mud she had not noticed that blood has been seeping into his shirt but she can see it now.

“It is bad?” he asks with a brave indifference and she winces.

“You’ve got two long gashes on your back and there’s a big bruise on your side,” her fingers gently touch his ribs and he jerks involuntarily and she breathes an apology. She lets his shirt fall as he turns to stare at her with a shrug.

“I’ve had worse,” he says and Wendy believes him. She lifts her hand and brushes his drying hair and his eyes widen at the touch. Wendy blushes again.

“You were bleeding before,” she explains in a rush and his face settles into a calm expression. He remains still, letting her fingers gently probe at his head before one of his eyes winces shut and she pulls her hand back from behind his ear. She leans closer, turning his head to the side and sees a small cut that disappears into his hair line. It’s stopped bleeding but it looks painful. With her hands cupping his head he looks back at her and she stops breathing.

“Do you hate me?” he asks in a quiet voice.

“Of course not,” she mumbles, unable to look away from his green eyes. As he dips his head down and his lips brush against hers she inhales sharply and he pulls back, unsure. The tension between them is taut, so taut that when she leans forward and her mouth meets his again it's in a rush, as if propelled by a great force. His hands cup her face as he kisses her again and pulls back, unable to stop staring into her eyes as if making sure she is real and it is happening. He makes a growling noise of pleasure before capturing her mouth in a rough kiss and Wendy wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer to her. Hands gripping at his hair she parts his lips with her tongue and his fingers flex against her waist and tugs her against him but the movement jerks her foot and she breaks away from his mouth with a hiss of pain.

“Sorry!” he gasps and she smiles a little shyly as his hands on her become very gentle. He tilts his head and exhales slowly. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Wendy blinks in surprise. “Really?” she knows she has battled with imagining him doing more to her than just kissing but it had only been daydreams. Peter smirks and brushes his mouth along her jaw to her ear.

“Yes, really.”

Moving so that she will be more comfortable Wendy places her bag under her foot and then lies down on the ground and he blinks down at her before smiling. Leaning down he kisses the corner of her mouth and she looks up at the craggy ceiling as thunder booms outside before closing her eyes as he kisses her deeply with a fervent need. He tastes of chocolate and blackcurrants, as she does and as his tongue glides against her own she realises with a deep yearning that she does not want this to stop. As he nuzzles at her throat and rubs his fingers over the back of her bare thigh she pulls on his hair gently and he lifts his head to stare down at her.

“Will this be a secret to?”

His dazed and lusty green eyes flick between hers in conflict and the only answer he will give her is another kiss. As lightning flickers and thunder booms faintly they stay in the cave and only emerge hours after the storm passes. Making their way up to the top of the cliff, to the surface, feels like entering the real world again and with every hindered step Wendy wishes that they could forget about school and bullies and reputations and pretend that it’s just them and the trees. But he won’t.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, helping her sit on a flat rock. As he pulls back Wendy grabs his arm and pulls him down and he kisses her again. It's with such passion that when he pulls back she wishes he had not done it because feels like goodbye. The time in the cave is already starting to feel like a dream but the way her body still throbs from his touch tells her the truth. Not a dream but maybe only now a memory.

“Peter? You do like me, don’t you?”

He blinks and straightens, his mouth twitching. “Do you need more convincing?”

“You won’t tell anyone what happened though, will you? Because you said whatever happens in the cave stays there,” she stares at him in concern and his face hardens a little, misconstruing her meaning completely.

“I’m not in the habit of mouthing off about every girl I kiss, especially ones like you. Your reputation within the scouts is intact,” he jokes a little cruelly and Wendy frowns, not understanding why he is suddenly so standoffish. Maybe he is slipping back into the awful boy she knows, putting that persona on easily as someone putting on a coat.

“I’m a girl guide,” she corrects him waspishly and he smirks in judgement, making her burn up in embarrassment. She knows that what she does is seen as deeply uncool and Peter has teased her about it before but it only now that she sees that it may be something hindering any commitments he has. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to go out with her.

“I’ll be back with the cavalry,” he says and turns to leave without a goodbye.

“Your coat?” she stills wears it, the sleeves rolled up over her arms. He turns and walks backwards, utterly unconcerned.

“Keep it. School is over so it’s useless now. I don’t want it,” he replies carelessly and Wendy feels a dull throb of hurt, blinking back tears. She reels from the sudden whiplash of the mood between them, not understanding but soon that confusion solidifies into anger. Feeling used and reproachful she watches him walk away and shouts after him before she can stop herself.

“You’re a horrible person and I never want to speak to you again!”

“…Fine by me,” comes his faint reply and Wendy breaks down in tears, not caring if he can hear her. Alone and angry it's another hour before she sees movement through the trees and hears a woman calling out her name. Eyes dry and feeling strangely numb Wendy calls out her presence and as a pretty blonde woman appears Wendy steels herself. She had thought that Peter would be the one who would put on a mask to hide the truth but she knows she will have to do the same now too. No one will know what a naïve fool she has been and she can only pray that some part of him cares enough not to talk about what passed between them, if only to save himself from the embarrassment of being associated with her.

Either way she never wants to see Peter Pan again.


	5. Chapter 5

The large house  _thumps_  with the heavy base issuing from speakers in the sitting room and Wendy can feel it vibrating around her rib cage as she crunches her way up the gravel path. It’s not often that she allows herself the time to socialise at large gatherings but Lily begged her to come and not wanting to leave her friend alone in a strange borough she had agreed to attend.

Bottle of  _Bacardi Breezer_  in hand Wendy walks around people familiar from sixth form and spots a few from secondary too. Seeing these people sends a tingle of unease through her and when she sees Rufio lounging against a wall with a girl – now very much a hipster – her stomach drops. If he is here then surely his leader is close by?

 _If they’re even friends anymore_ , she considers. Since leaving school she has had no further encounters with Peter and his gang but she had heard faint whispers about the state of them, about how it had been disbanded for reasons that ranged from Peter’s death to him being sent to prison. She knows he is alive but as for the latter? It could very well be true but she did not know either way. She has not seen or spoken to Peter for months and from what Lily had found out neither has anyone else.

“It’s mad in here! Let’s go out to the garden,” Lily shouts over the music and Wendy follows. Once outside she exhales in relief as the cool air hits her skin and the noise abates. She is dressed in a pretty floral summer dress and sandals, not particularly party wear but she is in no mood for being chatted up by anyone.  The fabric flutters against her legs as she shifts on her feet as Lily sits on a chair, where she is shortly joined by Rufio. Wendy catches his large grin and Lily’s flustered smile before turning to look at the small shed at the bottom of the garden. A group of people are sat beside it, though a few stand, blocking her view of them. Curious and already feeling slightly tipsy she walks through the dewy grass, pulled by their laughter until she sees them clearly.

Maimie Mannering, their host, sits huddled in a sun lounger and around her about a dozen people sit crossed legged. Balanced on the end of the chair an empty wine bottle spins, encouraged by shouts and groans as it stops on the bubbly redhead and then with another flick of her wrist it spins and falls on another. Wendy’s heart suddenly begins to beat wildly and blood rushes in her ears as she realises who it is.

“Peter!” Maimie gasps, hand over her blushing face as the people in the group begin to shout and clap in glee. Back to her Peter gets smoothly to his feet, beer bottle in hand and leans over the red faced girl and kisses her as the others count down from five.

Now Wendy does not consider herself a particularly jealous person. She is not prone to fits of possessiveness or resentfulness but as she watches the boy who had coldly rebuffed her kissing another she feels a flaming hot spike of bitterness. The intensity of it unsettles her because she had been sure that she was over him, had come to terms with the fact that she had been played but the trothing feeling in her stomach is testament to the contrary. It’s not like she can even hold anything against Maimie, in fact it is almost impossible to because the bubbly ginger girl is one the sweetest people Wendy knows but still the traitorous jealousy burns inside.

 _Go, leave before he turns and sees me_ , the thought echoes through her mind but her legs will not move and she scolds herself for coming in the first place. As Peter pulls back and slides to sit beside Maimie he looks up, bottle almost to his lips and then freezes when his eyes make contact with her. His eyes widen in surprise and he inhales audibly before he flicks a gaze at Maimie as she sits on the floor and then back at Wendy with an expression that could be mistaken for guilt. As he abruptly sits up, lowering the bottle from his lips, the paralysis over Wendy snaps and she turns on her heel and rushes away, her face burning.

“Wait!” he commands and she gets a few paces up the lawn before he grabs her arm and swings her around. The sight of him had been shocking but the touch of his hand on her arm is electric.

“No,” she hisses, unable to look him in the eye. He tries to pull her closer to him but she tugs her arm free and is about to make a run for it when Maaimie suddenly appears and envelops Wendy in a massive hug, smiling in happiness.

“I’m so happy you’re here! It feels like ages since I saw you last! Come and play with us Wendy! Now that you’re here it’s even,” she proclaims and Wendy knows that she is very drunk but genuinely overjoyed to see her. Unable to say no Wendy is pulled to the group and feeling like she is being lead to the gallows she sinks to her knees beside Felix and a girl she does not know. The tall, laconic blonde nods his head in greeting and then proceeds to act as if she is not there, which is fine by her. Who knows what Peter has told him about their time in the cave…For weeks Wendy had been paranoid that Peter would spread salacious lies about her but it seems he kept what happened between them to himself but just as she confided in Lily she imagines Peter must have told his best friend too.

“Come on Peter, spin the bottle!” someone  urges and the green eyed boy gives a sickly smile, looking anywhere but at her and Wendy wishes that she could turn back time but she can’t so she has to endure the ordeal of spin the bottle with a group of her horny, drunk peers. Peter grips the bottle and spins, his eyes fixed on it until it stops on two people who are not Wendy. He visibly relaxes, flicking his eyes to her before he vacates the seat and sits across the circle from her.

After near misses and escapes Felix sits on the deckchair and Wendy’s stomach writhes. He gives her a significant look accompanied by a smirk and then spins the bottle. Wendy grips her empty alcopop in her hands, praying to any god that will listen but with a swooping dread the bottle top slows until finally it lands on her.

“Oh shit,” she moans under her breath and pleads Felix with her eyes, as if he had some magical ability that he is now teasing her with but he just ignores her and spins again. Chancing a look at Peter she sees him staring at the bottle with intense fixation but she can’t guess if he’s willing it to land on him or someone else. Either way he looks pissed.

 _Please not him, please not him, please not him_ , she pleads but again the gods do not listen. As if falling from a great height Wendy’s stomach lurches when the bottle stops on Peter and the circle jeers loudly. Now their fate decided Peter stares at her intensely and she feels like withering away into nothing under it.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Felix proclaims quietly and the circle goes wild, grabbing at each other in hysterics and pointing at the garden shed as if suddenly presented with the holy covenant. Now Wendy has three options: she could both refuse and shamefully make a run for it, she could rush into the shed in even more shame or she could walk in with her head held high like a queen about to commit a justified murder.

“Fuck it,” Peter grumbles and gets to his feet, glaring at Felix as Wendy rises with her nose in the air and her face smoothed into a disdainful expression as if bored with the whole thing. Felix opens the shed door for her with a grand flourish and she glares at him with a sweet mocking smile.

“ _Thank you_.”

“Bastard,” Peter swears and Felix shrugs.

“You can thank me later,” he says and then closes the door behind them to the sound of cheering and wolf whistles. As the lock is slid across Wendy looks around the shed. It is an orderly place with shelves on one end for potted plants and a bench on the other. Light filters through a dirty skylight and shadows grow in the corners. Wendy turns as Peter steps under the skylight and she is acutely aware how small the space is, how intimate. He also appears to have grown even taller, more mature and she sees with a strange anger that he’s even more handsome.

“So…” he begins and Wendy glances at him and then away. She had wanted to confront him like an ice queen, to peer at him disdainfully from high above but she can’t make herself do it. She is not a queen, she’s a sixth former standing in a grubby shed in Richmond with the boy who cruelly hurt her and she can hardly lift her eyes to his.

“Six minutes,” she whispers, clutching her wrist watch. The time flows like treacle and with every laboured tick the air around them seems to congeal with tension. Peter lowers his beer bottle onto the workstation with a bang, making her jump and she looks up.

“Is it true you went out with Bae Gold?” he asks abruptly and while his face is a blank mask his words burst out forcefully. Wendy blinks, shocked at his question. She has dated Bae for a few weeks but they had decided to call it off. That has been a year ago. It just hadn’t worked, there had been no spark. Wendy tilts her head at Peter, narrowing her eyes.

“What do you care? It’s none of your business,” she responds coolly and the impassive look on his face slips completely. He steps forward, eyes blazing and she can tell he’s drunk otherwise he would probably continue to stare at her with a slight smirk for the remainder of the time.

“I couldn’t give a shit who you go out with but what right have you to be angry at me for doing what you wanted!?” his voice is harsh and wavering and Wendy takes a step back but then immediately is spurned forward by a wave of rage.

“ _What I wanted_? You think I wanted you to completely ignore me afterwards? Pretend like nothing had happened? You used me!” she shouts, jabbing her finger at his chest and he catches her wrist, his teeth bared.

“You said that you didn’t want anyone to know!”

“I did not! You’re a bloody liar!” she yells and all the old hurt that had been pushed down and ignored comes rushing upwards and she chokes on her words, eyes stinging. “Do you – do you have  _any_  idea how much you hurt me?”

He blinks, his fingers flexing on her wrist. “Hurt  _you_? I wasn’t the one worried about people knowing what had happened. You’re a snob,” he spits and Wendy’s eyes flash with outrage. She pushes him away but he comes back at her with a growl. “And I never used you!”

“Please! You took me up there so you could kiss me without anyone else knowing because you were ashamed to be seen with me.”

At these words his eyebrows rise into his hairline and he laughs in disbelief after a pause. Hearing him laugh at her sends daggers through her heart and she tries to leave, tears welling in her eyes but he grabs her gently and pushes her back.

“I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he says with that same weary bemusement and Wendy’s gaze burns.

 _“_ No you just wanted to do those things to me with no strings attached. I was an idiot for thinking that there was even a little bit of decency in you,” she retorts coldly and he blinks, as if hurt but then he starts to smile slowly, nodding.

“Like I said I’m used to people thinking the worst of me, why would you be any different? I hoped you would but…” he trails off with a shrug and Wendy frowns in confusion.

“What?”

“I thought you didn’t want anyone to know because  _you_  were ashamed of  _me_ , of being associated with me,” he explains calmly, shaking his head with a small smile and Wendy blinks, still not believing it.

“No, it was the other way around,” she states weakly, starting to realise the truth. Had it been a simple misunderstanding? Has she spent months in pain over nothing? “You said that you wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Because I thought that was what you wanted! I was being noble or something,” he jokes in exasperation and for the first time since entering the shed Wendy smiles faintly. Peter leans closer, eyes on her and speaks softly. “How could I  _ever_  be embarrassed to be with you?”

“Cause, you know, the guide stuff,” Wendy mumbles, averting her eyes and then inhales sharply when he cups her face and she looks up, mouth parting. He smiles softly at her, head tilting to the side.

“Do you know why I call you bird?”

“No,” she shakes her head, eyes now caught in his gaze.

“It was in year seven, I think during the first week. I saw you in the playground, you were on your own and going from tree to tree whistling to the birds as if you were trying to talk to them,” he admits in bemusement and Wendy groans in shame.

“Oh god, I remember that. You must have thought I was mental,” she said with a small laugh and he nods.

“Yep, just a bit but I knew then, right from the age of eleven” he whispers and his thumbs brush along her cheekbones and she blinks, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

“Knew what?”

“You know,” he breathes against her lips and she stops breathing. Did wayward, half feral eleven year old Peter Pan know with a blinding clarity that he loved Wendy Darling? Could that really be true?

Wendy shakes her head in disbelief, even as her whole body thrums in joy. “You had a funny way of showing it, if it’s even true.”

“It is. I was a stupid little shit and pretty much got worse as the years progressed. I didn’t know how to show you, let alone tell you,” he confesses, brushing back tendrils of golden hair from her flushing face. “What happened in the cave was not me scoring a point. Not with you, not ever.”

Wendy inhales, trying to take it all in but her mind buzzes strangely. She grips his biceps, trying to think clearly. “So let me get this straight. Once we left the cave you would have been my boyfriend?”

“Yes,” he replies simply and she grins like an idiot, unable to stop herself.

“But you never date girls.”

“Because none of them were you,” he replies and she laughs at his smoothness. He grins cockily, moving closer to her with a playful, lustful gaze but she stops him with a question.

“What happened? You’re different now,” the rumours about prison float up in her mind and will not leave. Peter leans back, looking at her thoughtfully before he sighs.

“After we left school I went a bit crazy and I got in trouble.”

“Is it true you punched Mr Jones?” that rumour she either dismissed as ridiculous or worried over the very real possibilities. Peter smiles, the corner of his lips curling and Wendy’s stomach drops.

“Yes. I won’t go into details but I lost it and got arrested. I could have gone to prison but he dropped the charges if I agreed to his ultimatum. Which I did,” he says and Wendy lowers the hand from her shocked face.

“You hit Mr Jones! I mean I can’t say I’m surprised really but oh my god he could have killed you! What did he suggest?”

“That I straighten myself out by joining the T.A or go to prison. That’s why I haven’t been around for months. You were right you know, in five years’ time I probably would be in jail or worse.”

“The territorial army? You’re a cadet?” Wendy tries to picture him in a green uniform but can’t. As she contemplates this news a prickly fear edges in and she gazes at him in concern. “You won’t have to fight, will you?”

He shrugs in answer before smirking again. “So now we both salute the queen and I can probably tie better knots than you,” he boasts and Wendy rolls her eyes.

“I doubt that, I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

“Got a merit badge and everything have you bird?” he asks, pressing up against her and Wendy smiles coyly.

“Maybe.”

“Can I see it?” he asks, mouth brushing against her cheek and her heart pounds as she slides her arms around his neck.

“If you’re nice,” she breathes into his ear and he leans back to stare into her eyes.

“Whistle for me.”

With a smile she purses her lips together and blows, producing a sweet wavering note before he growls happily, pushes her against the wall of the shed and kisses her roughly. She has imagined him kissing her in all manner of ways, from tender to furious but she should have known this is the way it would happen. Pent up frustrations and passions finally allowed an outlet he presses against her, one hand on her waist and the other buried in her curly hair and she parts her lips to welcome him in deeper. As he grinds his hip into hers, sending a bolt of arousal through her, the sound of people laughing and yelling reach her ears and she remembers where she is but it is a passing concern. Even when someone hammers against the door they do not break apart. Peter slips his hand up her dress to press his fingers between her legs, echoing his ministrations in the cave and she moans into his mouth. They only break away for air and he takes the opportunity to pick her up and settle her on the workbench, scattering pots in his haste.

“We’re not really gonna do this in Maimie Mannering’s shed are we?” she asks breathlessly and he groans against her chest and then looks up at her with a wicked grin that makes her toes curl.

“Hmm we could be caught at any moment,” he muses in delight and she is so very turned on that for a heady moment she wants him, shed or no shed, but at that moment a commanding deep voice shouts above the music and people and it is a phrase guaranteed to get teenagers from all walks of life running for the shadows like spiders exposed to light.

“OLD BILL!”

“Shit,” Peter and Wendy yelp together and then run out of the shed door, which some kind soul had unlocked. The party guests run and climb over the garden walls or stream out through other exits as the police shout and sirens wail. Wendy briefly wonders where poor Maimie is when Peter grabs her hand and pulls them to the wall where a trellis is fixed. He has a grin on his face and his eyes gleam in exhilaration. He might be trying to sort himself out but at heart he is still Peter Pan and he is incorrigible.

“Ladies first,” he says and gives her a leg up as Felix, Rufio and Lily suddenly appear out of breath. Wendy climbs up on the wall and looks down as Lily is hoisted up next to her.

“He’s not a complete bastard!” Wendy shouts happily and Lily grins, nodding.

“I know!” she says, eyes on Rufio and then frowns. “Wait. What?”

Before either can explain the boys climb over and down the wall to the street and then hold out their arms for the girls. Lily jumps with a scream and both Felix and Rufio catch her. Wendy gazes at Peter who stares up at her with a huge giddy grin but his eyes are steady on hers as he holds out his arms.

“Trust me.”

“…I do,” she inhales and leaps.


End file.
